


For Safekeeping

by entanglednow



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bodies How Do They Work?, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Eggs, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Idiots in Love, Kink Meme, M/M, Magic That's How, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Human Genitalia, Overstimulation, Oviposition, Unfertilised Eggs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: In which Crowley encourages Aziraphale to indulge in a few quirks of his biology, and gets a little more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 361
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations





	For Safekeeping

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to write a few more longer, plot-driven things this year. Which I thought would be fun and a bit of a challenge. But sometimes I just want to find a kink meme prompt with a theme I haven't tried before and write a fill for that!
> 
> In this fic Aziraphale lays eggs inside Crowley. The whole thing is negotiated beforehand and completely consensual, but the process is still explicitly described.

The first thing Aziraphale does is make sure that Crowley's comfortable. That's going to be especially important tonight, the wrong position will make this more difficult than it needs to be and more uncomfortable than he'd ever want to let Crowley get.

"Will you stop fussing," Crowley hisses, from where he's sprawled rather appealingly over three pillows. Aziraphale had already adjusted them half a dozen times, both eager to begin and a little afraid to. If he's being honest, the sight of Crowley settled into position for what's to come is a bit overwhelming.

"I just want to make absolutely sure that everything is right, I don't want to rush anything."

Crowley presses his face to the bed, making annoyed noises into the sheets. "Aziraphale, you're not rushing anything, believe me, we've been here an hour already, you've adjusted the bedding at least once every five minutes. You've given me two more pillows than is strictly necessary. You've said 'this isn't quite right' exactly eleven times."

Aziraphale can't help but think the demon has a point. "I know, I'm sorry, I'm just a touch nervous. Crowley, are you sure -"

Crowley rolls to one side, drawing a leg up to expose the wet spot he'd left on the pillows, the bobbing redness of his cock, and that twist of a smile that somehow leaves Aziraphale's tension reluctantly draining out of him. Because Crowley really is a devastatingly lovely thing, no matter how he's dressed, or undressed, or displayed around the bookshop like the flirtatious serpent he is. 

"Yes. I'm sure I want to do this. I'm not going to change my mind, angel. Stop worrying, just relax and -" Crowley's gaze drops to where Aziraphale's cock is already jutting stiffly outwards. "Do what you need to do. I'm all on board, fully consenting, promise."

Crowley has always been so good to him, more than he deserves at times, and Aziraphale doesn't want him to do this out of obligation, or just to make him happy.

"I would be perfectly satisfied if we just had sex how we usually do, without -" he stops, he's not exactly sure how to phrase it without it sounding awkward, biologically speaking. What's resting at his groin isn't technically a cock at the moment, it's rather more specialised. But calling it anything else would be just as inaccurate.

"I know you would. But I also know how much you want it. I know how often you think about it." Crowley lets his head fall to one side, expression amused. "And, I have to admit, thinking about you wanting it when I'm naked and spread open for you has occasionally been something of a thrill." He drags the pillows in close and stretches his body over them again, one thigh pulling up, spine bending in a way that leaves him so beautifully exposed and so effortlessly tempting that Aziraphale finds himself leaning over his back and kissing the line of his neck, Crowley's long, warm thighs gripped in his hands. He smells so familiar and so inviting that he can't help the way his weight slowly relaxes into him.

"It's not every time," he explains quietly into the hot curve of Crowley's ear.

"Course not, anyone would think you were insatiable," Crowley teases, tipping into the contact. "You want me to prepare myself?"

"No, no, let me, I want to." Aziraphale has been thinking about it for a very long time and the thought of slipping his fingers inside and preparing Crowley for it is too enticing an opportunity to give up.

It's so easy to have a palm full of oil, to spread Crowley open with the other hand, thumb drifting down the valley until it meets the tight curl of his arsehole. It had seemed far safer to do it like this. Though Crowley is always careful with his body, and rarely makes more organs than he needs to, doing it anally completely negates the suggestion, or the risk, of any accidents. Not that Aziraphale is disappointed in any way. Every part of Crowley is beautiful, every inch of him, every intimate space inside him that he's been given permission to touch, to explore, to claim as his own. 

But today the demon is going to be opened so beautifully, and so very wide, for so much of Aziraphale. He can't help shivering out a breath as he drizzles oil across that hole, doing nothing for a while but spreading it around with his thumb, the occasional soft press leaving the puckered skin shiny. Though eventually the long shivers working their way down Crowley's spine urge him on, leave his thumb dipping inside to feel the heat of him, then his finger, then two of his fingers. Until finally he's three fingers deep and the slick wet sound of Crowley's body opening for him has soft sighs of appreciation and pleasure leaving his mouth.

Crowley isn't quite so patient, hissing into the pillows and spreading his knees, his long hands fisting in white cotton as his hips lift and press back into the motion.

"Unless you want me to come like this, I suggest you do something." It comes out on a breath, strained and eager.

Do something. Oh. The reminder of what they have planned leaves everything inside Aziraphale clenching tight in excited arousal.

His fingers ease free and he tugs the demon's hips higher with oily hands, one palm flattening on a small buttock to hold him open while the other fists his cock - his own slippery grasp pulling a moan out of him. The head slips and slides against Crowley's arsehole briefly until it catches, then pushes in, the stretch of his rim such a lovely sight as he slowly sinks into him.

"Hrngh, fuck, finally." Crowley's spine bends, his whole body just _accepting_ him, sending Aziraphale deep before he's prepared for it. For a moment all he can do is lay against Crowley's back, nuzzling the red of his hair and kissing beneath his ear. Being connected to Crowley is always such a blissful experience and he needs a moment to adjust, to simply feel it.

"There is nothing like being inside you, nothing at all," he manages to shake out, hands folding at waist and ribcage, wanting to hold the demon in any way he can.

"I told you that first," Crowley reminds him quietly, but one of his own hands slips down to grasp Aziraphale's forearm, black nails digging into the skin.

He's already shifting his hips, urging Aziraphale to move, to push, to thrust - but that's an entirely different sort of pleasure that won't accomplish what they have planned for tonight. Aziraphale tightens both hands at Crowley's waist, holding him still.

The demon gives a quick laugh into the pillow he'd dragged under his cheek.

"Right, sorry, forgot for a second."

"It's alright." Aziraphale is already breathless. He'd never expected Crowley to agree, never expected to ever get to do this with him. "It's alright, just give me a moment." It ends up being far longer than a moment, the hot throb of anticipation leaving him trembling and useless for almost a minute, while Crowley remains still beneath him. Which is far more well-behaved than he normally would be. But eventually there's no patience left and the slightest shift of narrow hips leaves him gasping.

"Want me to squeeze you a little?" Crowley offers. "Will that help?"

Aziraphale moans a breath at the thought of it. At the thought of Crowley encouraging the first of his clutch out with the inviting flex and clench of his own body.

"If you like, that would be - that would be very nice." Something of an understatement. Help is an unnecessary concept at this point since he can feel the swelling pressure low in his abdomen, as his body prepares, excited and eager. This time he doesn't force it back, he doesn't submerge the low thrum of power back into his original form. He lets it settle, lets it expand - and when Crowley squirms and presses back and squeezes he lets it urge him deeper.

Aziraphale can't help slipping his hands down and spreading the demon's small buttocks to see, exposing where his tight arsehole is pulled open by the thrust of his cock. As beautiful as it looks like this it's nothing to the way it will look when it's coaxed wider and tighter for the squeezing push of an egg. When Aziraphale eases part of himself deep inside him, settles it there to stay. Oh not for long, not for any purpose, but just for a while. Just so Crowley can contain him, can hold his essence in a way that Aziraphale can see and touch and feel.

"Oh." His thumbs press and stroke around the shape of him, helpless not to picture it.

There's an impatient hiss.

"Get on with it, angel."

"I am - oh good Heavens - I am getting on with it." He can't help the delighted laugh, because it's true, he can feel his muscles tightening as the weight of an egg slides into place, stretches past the base of his cock and into the length of him.

Aziraphale moans at the sensation, as the egg works itself down, stretching his sex out deliciously. It's been so long since he'd bothered to let himself prepare for this, to feel the heavy weight of them work their way out, so long since he'd used his hand to tease them free, before banishing the unfertilised eggs to non-existence. 

He'd never expected Crowley to agree to this, even after their relationship became physical. It had never occurred to him as a possibility the demon would entertain. Aziraphale had never had a partner for it, never let himself grow them with the understanding that he'd be placing them inside someone else. He'd never imagined Crowley would ever be his, so he'd packed the feeling away, crushed it down with so many others.

"Is this alright," he breathes, because it's close, it's so close and soon he won't be able to stop. "I can still pull out, I can still -"

"No, no, we're doing this. I want to do this." Crowley twists far enough to look over his shoulder, spine bending in a way that should be impossible, the squirming twist of his hips has Aziraphale moaning and gripping him tightly, his thumbs digging in hard enough to leave marks on the skin. "Come on, angel."

Nothing had prepared Aziraphale for the way it feels to be buried inside Crowley as the first egg works its way down, as it meets the tight constriction where he's buried in the demon, holding his narrow hips still where they're lifted and raised from the bed. He's watching the way the hard, unyielding mass pulls and stretches Crowley's anus as it slowly works its way inside.

"Oh fuck." Crowley's toes clench and he garbles a sound, panting as the egg stretches him open, until the sight of it is breathtaking and obscene and everything Aziraphale had never known how much he needed. It sits for a moment, its widest point holding Crowley open, the vivid stretch of his rim shiny and perfect. Before there's one last push, and the egg slips inside Crowley's body.

Aziraphale moans at the loss of it, at the quivering, orgasmic pleasure that throbs back into his body at expelling it. The fact that it's now deep inside Crowley is almost too much to acknowledge. Crowley swears, breath whistling out of him, and Aziraphale gathers himself enough to stroke his hands down the demon's spine in long soothing pulls.

"Was that alright?" He's terribly afraid that the answer will be no.

"You said a large kiwi fruit," Crowley grumbles. "That felt a lot bigger than a bloody kiwi fruit."

Aziraphale thinks that was a rather accurate judge of their size, but his level of tense, desperate arousal, and his need to reassure, overrules any pointed comment he could make.

"It's also inside me," Aziraphale reminds him. "I'm afraid you have to take that into account as well. But the first one is always the hardest if you're not used to it. Though it's been a very long time since I let myself lay anything, and never inside anyone else. The thought of you letting me. Crowley, the fact that you agreed at all - but we can still stop, if you need to, all you have to do is say and I'll pull out, I can lay the rest somewhere else." He will, of course he will, Crowley just has to say the word and he'll stop.

Crowley hisses at the suggestion, which Aziraphale can't help but be deeply affected by right now. The way it makes the demon's whole body vibrate pleasantly.

"Nuh -" Crowley's hand flails backwards, fingers digging at Aziraphale's naked hip, sliding to his thigh and squeezing. "No, they're going in me, put them in me."

Aziraphale has to grip his waist tightly for a moment, hearing that fierce demand to continue. "Oh, you beautiful thing. You know I don't want to put them anywhere else. I never have done, just you, only you."

Crowley gives a breathless laugh. "You always have been a fussy thing, high standards."

Aziraphale hums agreement and bends to place a kiss between Crowley's shoulder blades, where the skin is thin and sensitive - and on another plane of existence his wings shudder in pleasure.

"Again, angel, come on."

He can't resist the request, the base of his cock already thickening. Crowley shifts in his grip, adjusting his knees and tugging one of the pillows out from under him with an annoyed noise.

"Do you want me to change position?" Aziraphale asks, trying not to jostle anything while Crowley adjusts himself. "It's much easier to let gravity do a bit of the work but if you'd be more comfortable - I could have you in my lap, or on your back?"

Crowley sinks to his elbows and chest as the next egg reaches his rim, starts stretching him open again.

"No," he grates out. "This is good, this is good."

Aziraphale watches his hands fist cotton in bunches, watches his thighs twitch and shudder and strain at the exquisite stretch of it. It feels beyond incredible just being inside him for this. He'd truly never expected the demon to let him have this, had expected even the suggestion of it to immediately provoke a protest about how demeaning and invasive demons found the idea of it. The fact that Crowley had been the one to offer it to him, soft like a question ' _you could always put them inside me_.' Aziraphale is going to be replaying that in his head for years.

"Fuck, unh, Satan's tits." The words shudder out of the demons as he tilts his hips back, makes a noise somewhere between pain and naked pleasure. Crowley's cock is stiff where it hangs down under him, swaying gently with every slow squirm. The thought that Crowley might be enjoying this, being pinned and filled like this - the fact that he'd asked for it, encouraged it. Even when Aziraphale gave him so many opportunities to say no.

Aziraphale watches long fingers tangle and clench in the sheets, watches Crowley brace himself for it. The moment where the widest part of the egg fights the resistance of Crowley's tight rim, stretches its way through and then inside, is incredible. The part where it finally leaves his own body, buries itself deep inside the demon, is an almost unbearable pleasure. He holds on to trembling angular hips while a third makes its way down, eases Crowley open, straining for a second at its widest point, before slipping inside too.

Aziraphale takes a minute to stroke his hands down Crowley's damp, trembling back, feeling the knobs of his spine and the sharp angles of his shoulder blades. The demon is panting, and making quiet whimpering noises every time Aziraphale shifts him a fraction. His rim is a deep pink, shiny and slick where it's pulled tight, and Aziraphale can't resist miracling more oil and letting his thumb trail there, stroking the beautiful flush of it.

It's barely half a minute before he's watching another egg work slowly down, push against the stretch Crowley's anus, a little easier now, as if it's learning how to take them. He feels the shivery tension and the moan that's still pained and eager in equal measure. Aziraphale watches the egg sink inside and moans at the sweetness of it.

"Unh, this shouldn't feel so fucking good," Crowley garbles, the honesty of it finally breaking free. There's a hot flush on his face and his thighs are shaking. Aziraphale tries his best to soothe him but his own body is a trembling mess of need.

Two come out close together, working their way down his cock almost too closely to separate. Crowley gasps and groans and then shudders in orgasm while they're still stretching him wide, the solid mass of them resisting his need to clench down, leaving his rim reddened and glistening and beautiful, before the eggs shove their way inside, and his hole spasms and squeezes around Aziraphale's cock.

"Angel," he says breathlessly, shivering and sensitive.

Aziraphale kisses the back of his neck, wraps an arm around him, moaning as the shift of weight jostles the remains of the clutch he still has to give.

"I'm here, you're perfect, you're absolutely perfect. I always knew you would be." It doesn't matter that every egg slipped into him is unfertilised, that nothing will ever come of this. The image of it, the way Crowley had accepted it so easily, for Aziraphale and only ever Aziraphale. He can't form words that do justice to how much that means to him.

"Fuck." Crowley squirms in his grip, panting desperately. "How many more?" he demands, voice a raspy croak into the damp pillows.

"I'm not certain, four or five."

Crowley groans and folds deeper into the bed, hips trembling. "Four or - fuck, angel, I can't, I can't."

Aziraphale has already put half of them inside him, and he can feel the solid shape of the next spreading the base of his cock wide, but he stills as much as he's able.

"You can," Aziraphale tells him. "You're doing beautifully, look how many I've already pushed into you." Aziraphale's palm slides round to flatten over the swell where the awkward jostle of hard, curving shapes has already made itself obvious in Crowley's slender body. It's exquisite. The thrum of his own naked self, his own pure essence buried deep inside him.

"Fuck." The demon clenches when he strokes his thumb over the hard shape of one under the skin. "Oh, fuck, that's cheating."

"You know I won't continue if you ask me to stop," Aziraphale tells him.

"Nnnn don't want you to stop," Crowley grumbles in protest. "Just let me - let me complain about you shoving orange-sized eggs in me."

"Kiwi fruit," Aziraphale corrects.

"Stop being a fucking fruit pedant." Crowley groans and folds over. "Ok, I'm good, come on, shove the rest of your eggs inside me."

Aziraphale gives a startled jolt at the words, hands gripping narrow demonic hips as the egg that had been slowly coaxing its way free surges down his cock and stretches Crowley out in one sliding push, before disappearing inside him.

"Oh, blessed hell -" Crowley scrabbles for a purchase in the damp sheets whining through his teeth as his thighs shake, cock spilling in wet bursts between his thighs. "Oh fuck. oh fuck. You absolute bastard - could have, could have warned me." He laughs breathlessly and sags in Aziraphale's hands. "Don't suppose you can do that again?"

Aziraphale doesn't have an answer, his whole lower body is still ringing with that blissful, squeezing release. He can only drag in air and plaster himself along Crowley's back to kiss his neck and jaw and then - after an impossible twist - the demon's panting mouth.

"You beautiful incredible thing you. Just let me, let me, oh please." He straightens and thrusts a little, the wide shape of him dragging and stretching Crowley's red rim, which is looking tight and sore enough that he spares a miracle to spread more oil around it, leaving it slippery and inviting. Crowley shivers through it, squirming backwards and hissing, cock hard once more. "Just a few more," Aziraphale promises. He feels drunk. He's not sure how he's going to survive this, an entire clutch inside the demon's body. An obvious swell in that narrow form, just for him.

Just for him.

Another egg pushes down, pushes in, and he watches the shape of it, gasping through an open mouth, spreading Crowley's buttocks as wide as he can to watch every second, to see every moment of it.

Crowley swears and trembles, claws the sheets and takes it, then takes the one that comes after with a whimpering, quivering squirm. Aziraphale strokes his thighs and holds him while he shakes and moans and comes against the sheets again.

"I'm full," Crowley rasps pitifully, still twitching and trembling with aftershocks. "There's no more fucking room, m'gonna split open."

"One more," Aziraphale promises. "Just one. Then you can rest." Aziraphale reaches down and drags damp hair out of Crowley's face, catches one yellow eye blown-wide, small teeth dug in his lower lip.

"Let me up on my knees," Crowley demands.

"That won't be comfortable for you," Aziraphale explains. "Pushing an egg up will be more difficult than down, not to mention the weight of the others to push aside."

"Sick of being bent over," Crowley complains, already levering himself upright, the shift and squeeze sending Aziraphale's nerves into delicious endless spasm. He can't help the way he wraps an arm around the demon, hand immediately seeking the rounded curve of his stomach, the skin stretched around the hard shapes jostling inside him. The shapes that Aziraphale put there, filled him with, that will ring with his angelic signature to anyone who cared to look.

It's perfect, it's perfect - and as the final egg squeezes upwards he feels a deep sadness that it's the last he has to give.

It should have been harder in this position, the last egg is larger than usual and the weight inside Crowley is already pressing down where Aziraphale needs to push in. But instead it's a wave of slow pushing and murmurs of affection and kisses to the side of Crowley's face. The reluctant slow stretch of Crowley's body accepting everything he has to give, accepting all of Aziraphale. Until the very last one finally slips inside.

Aziraphale can't resist dropping a hand, grasping Crowley's cock, where it's sticky and red and sensitive enough that he hisses and twitches at the first careful pulls.

"Angel, don't you dare read anything into how many times you've made me come tonight." His hips are jolting back again, even though no thrusting is needed for this. Force of habit he supposes and it's not an unpleasant sensation. Though he's wearing the wrong genitalia to appreciate it properly. Crowley is the one who benefits though, pace stuttering, cock drooling from the head in sticky lines, until sharp nails dig into Aziraphale's hand and Crowley is locking tight and coming in wet pulses over Aziraphale's fingers and the bed, body squeezing so hard around his cock it's a delicious throbbing pain.

They end up in the sheets together, Crowley's body swollen full, skin stretched tight. Aziraphale carefully pulls out of him, and his hole stays open for a moment, the oiled puffiness of it reddened and painful looking, before it slowly eases shut.

"That was more fucking intense than I expected," Crowley grates out, he's still panting a little. "Probably should have stretched first. Did you get everything you wanted, angel? Did it feel good for you?" There's a breathless laugh. "Or is that a stupid question?"

Aziraphale can't resist tucking in behind him, one hand cupping the low curve of his stomach. His whole body is light and warm. He feels so overwhelmingly in love that it's hard to breathe.

"It was incredible," he says. "You were incredible, every moment of it was exquisite. Thank you, my love."

"How long before they...y'know," Crowley asks. Before they dissolve and disappear, is what he doesn't say.

"They should be small enough to no longer be noticeable by morning." Aziraphale can't pretend he's not a little disappointed by how briefly they'll remain inside him.

Crowley grunts. "You want to stroke them a little until then?" he offers, with what he probably wants to sound like disgruntled indulgence, but feels more than a tease.

"I'd like that very much," Aziraphale admits, because it's the truth. "If you'd be amenable."

Crowley drags the pillows down low enough to press his face into. "Ah, knock yourself out, I'm too exhausted to protest, or stay awake for that matter. Enjoy my giant, egg-filled body as much as you like."


End file.
